


A Little Game

by JayWrites



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Smut, dom!Tom, sexy fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayWrites/pseuds/JayWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom decides to play a game for your birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChanelLovesTom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChanelLovesTom/gifts).



> I wrote this for ChanelLovesTom's birthday so the fic contains her name. I will not change this because it is dedicated to her.

_I should have been more specific._ That’s the main thought running through your head at the moment while you’re hanging from the ceiling by your wrists, naked and blindfolded. Last week when your boyfriend, Tom, asked you what you wanted to do for your birthday, you responded, “I don’t know. I don’t care. As long as I can spend it with you, I’m good.” You’re not normally so indifferent. You have no problem sharing your opinions—granted, even when they’re not asked for—on a multitude of things. But when it comes to your birthday you’ve always been sort of…blah about the whole affair. Well, not always. You’re pretty sure you’ve had some great ones in your youth but ever since your fourteenth birthday—when your dad invited all of your friends over for rides on the world’s saddest pony—you’ve been pretty disappointed in the day. It seemed as if God was intent on making you lament being born. There was the fire on your fifteenth; the robbery on your sixteenth; your grandmother died on your seventeenth and your grandfather on the following year. And the cherry on top of all that shittiness would be your nineteenth birthday when your boyfriend invited you over for dinner and you found him in bed…with your (ex) best friend. Since then you just figured to hell with celebrating that damn day.

But Tom wanted to do something for your “special day,” as he calls it. (Sometimes he can be so damn sappy.) When he came into the bedroom a couple of nights ago and announced that he would be taking you out to a birthday dinner you were tempted to protest. Yet it was hard to turn him down. The man, if nothing else, was persistent as hell. Also, how could you say no when he was giving you that wounded puppy look? (Damn him and those eyes!) However, dinner, much to your delight, went smoothly. There were no fires or robberies (at least not any that you suffered) and no incessant mockery, broken hearts, or shed tears. He took you to your favorite restaurant and let you order anything you wanted. (You received a free slice of cake but you ordered another dessert anyway because your sweet tooth refused to be satiated.) After dinner, he casually asked you, “What should we do now, love?”

You folded your arms across your chest—in an attempt to make your breasts stand out even more in your low-cut dress —and, in a low voice, answered, “Whatever you want.” The moment that mischievous smirk grew on his lips you regretted saying the words.

You and Tom have been dating for a little over a year now. In that time, you have come to realize that he has certain…tastes. Tastes that differ completely from yours. Not that you’re complaining! Not in the least! It’s just… well… it’s taken you a while to get used to some of them. Before him, your sexual experiences had been limited to blow jobs and the missionary position. Your cheating ex-boyfriend “liked to drive”—you resist the urge to throw up over that dumb ass phrase. Although, now that you think about it, he had absolutely _no_ problem letting your ex-best friend “drive!” So maybe he had a problem with you? You push the thought away. _Nope. None of that. It’s your birthday and you’re going to only think happy thoughts. Fake it until you make it to 12:01a.m._ Besides, those two assholes doing you dirty did bring some good into your life: Tom. The man who, if this whole acting thing didn’t pan out, could specialize in the art of the orgasm. Because good goddamn!

Sure you were an expert at getting yourself off but you had become resigned to the fact that you might not ever get to experience one with a partner. (So cynical at such a young age!) But that was before you met Tom and came—hard—from his tongue alone. The man was gifted. He knew how to use every inch of his body to bring you pleasure. That mouth could make you melt like butter over one kiss; those long, dexterous fingers could make you shudder with just a touch; and that dick! Well…what can you say? Sometimes you have to fight jumping up after sex and applauding him.

The man was so skillful in bed that you were sure he invented the act of lovemaking. Missionary was a starter, an appetizer for all the positions he would put you in before you came. He would make origami out of you and you didn’t mind. Not in the least. Well, maybe a little. While in the throes of passion you accepted every challenge he presented to your body like a champ. However, afterwards, you’d ache for hours. But never enough to regret daring him to fold your legs behind your head and fuck you like there was no tomorrow. Tom had awoken a sexual desire in you that you never knew you had. Gone were the days of impatiently waiting for a lover to figure out how to work your clit. Gone were the days of giving oral only to receive nothing in return. Gone were the days of settling for weak strokes followed by quick coming partners. No more one sided relationships for you!

With your newfound sexual appetite also emerged your sexual curiosity. The entire reason why you’re currently hanging assed out from the ceiling is due to said curiosity. You can still remember the night months ago during dinner when you asked Tom about his kinks. He almost choked on his sweet and sour chicken when you asked, “What kind of freaky shit are you into?” You had been scrolling down your tumblr (instead of focusing on finishing the latest chapter of your novel) and came upon a post questioning Tom’s sexual prowess. You laughed to yourself about all the comments guessing at the size and length of his cock, the skill of his fingers and tongue, and at his “O” face. Until you got to one response that said: “I wonder if he’s a dom or sub tho.”

Up until that point, Tom’s kinkiness level never entered your mind. You assumed that he was into the same things you were. But you were wrong. So, so very wrong. He wasn’t into anything too extreme (thankfully) but he did have a… love for light bondage. His reply surprised you at first but that damned curiosity couldn’t help but to ask—no, _dare_ —him to prove it. (Why you thought he was joking about something like that you still can’t figure out).

“Chanel,” he asked, “are you sure? I mean… I didn’t bring it up for a reason. You don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you said. “Please.”

“Fine,” he relented with a sigh. You were more than ready to drive to Home Depot (that’s where you buy the rope from, right?) and hop into bed and get everything started; but Tom told you there was much to talk about first. You had to choose a safe word; he needed to know what was and wasn’t allowed; and he wanted to make sure, above all else, that you were comfortable.

Which brings you back to the present. You’re still hanging from the goddamn ceiling and Tom, for all you know, is nowhere to be found. After he gave you that devilish grin at dinner, he nearly broke the speed limit getting you both back home. Once you were inside, he commanded you to completely strip. (He still remained in his dress shirt and pants.) You obeyed. He took a quick moment to take you in. His eyes traveled across every inch of you. Although he’s seen you nude plenty of times, you still had an urge to cover yourself. (If you were pale your skin would be completely flushed in red.) He walked towards you, still fully clothed and kissed you, soft and quick, on the lips. “Do you remember your safe words, darling,” he asked in that velvety British accent of his.

The first time he asked you this you thought over it for days. You wanted a really good one. Tom assured you that it didn’t matter as long as it was something you could remember easily. You were half embarrassed to admit that after all that thinking the only thing you could come up with was the traffic light system: green meant “yes or please continue”; and red simply meant “stop.” “Do you remember your safe words, Chanel,” he now asked you again.

“Yes,” you replied with a nod. “‘Green’ and ‘red.’”

“Good. Now we’re going to play a game. A special game for your birthday. Is that all right?” You nodded again. “Good. Now, like with every game, there are certain rules to follow. Rule one: you cannot speak unless spoken to. You disobey, you get punished. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Rule two: you must follow my commands. If I say ‘do’ or ‘don’t’ you must obey, without question. Again, disobedience will lead to punishment. Do you understand?”

God you loved when he was so demanding! Whenever he got into his “dom mode,” as you call it, you couldn’t help but to get excited. It was like someone had flicked a switch on inside you that made every part of you stand at attention. You’d never thought you’d be the “sub” type. You weren’t a high strung person who needed to control every facet of your life but you were never really good with letting another person take over. If something needed to be done you did it. Plain and simple. For example, you have never kept an assistant for more than two days. They were helpful, sure, but there was always the risk of them messing up in some way. You can get your own coffee and take your own messages. Why pay someone to do what you already can for free?

Yet still you loved being the sub to Tom’s dom. (You were sure if he were any other man you wouldn’t even consider it.) Besides, you were _completely_ giving him control over you. If anything, _you_ had the power. You know that despite of all of his little rules the moment you say “red” everything must come to a halt. The very second you were uncomfortable or no longer felt safe the entire thing was off.

He asked for your hands and, once you gave him them, he kissed the inside of your wrists before tying them high above your head. “Are you okay, dear?”

“Green,” you told him. Then you watched him walk to the closet and pull down on of his ties.

“Once I put this on the game begins. You must follow my rules. What are they?”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to and do whatever you say.”

“Without question,” he reminded you.

“Without question,” you repeated before he tied the silk accessory around your eyes.

Now you must rely on your other senses. You hear the heels of his shoes march across the hardwood floor. Next you hear the sound of a drawer opening from your left. The dresser. You can hear him rummaging around in there. Oh, dear Lord, what is he looking for? You hear the dresser close and then you hear his feet walk away from you again. You hear a creak. What is that? Is that a door? _Did he leave?_ Oh he better not have left you tied up stark naked for a joke or something!

“Tom,” you call out but get no answer. “Tom, are you still here?” Tom gives you a hearty chuckle before the sound of his shoes walking across the floor is heard. They’re moving closer to you.

“Already breaking rules, love?” _Oh shit._ “What was rule number one?”

“No speaking unless being spoken to.”

“That’s right. I guess, since you’re normally such a good girl, I should show some mercy. Would you like that, darling?”

“Yes.” He slaps you firmly on your right ass cheek causing you to wince at the quick pain.

“Mercy is not in my nature, love. Your punishment is five spankings. That was one. Count out the rest for me.” He slaps your ass again.

“Two.” Another hit. They are powerful enough to sting but not enough to cause you any great pain. “Three.” Another hit. “Four.” The final smack, however, was so hard that you jerked in pain. “Fi-five,” you stutter out.

“Are you okay, Chanel? Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head and mutter out, “Green,” indicating that you were both fine and that he could continue. Your bottom stung but there was no way you were tapping out in the first round. Your mama ain’t raise no quitter!

“Good.” He kisses you on the lips. You hear him take a couple of steps away before returning to you again. When he does his mouth is on yours again. You’re barely able to enjoy the kiss when his lips move to your neck then your tits. You moan but don’t speak as he flicks your right nipple with his tongue.

He cups your tit in his hand and sucks on it. His other hand trails down your body. It moves across your stomach, then down your hips, back up the small of your back, before finally resting on your ass. He rubs a cheek; the soft touch feels good against your still sore bottom. Meanwhile, he frees your tit from his and rolls his tongue over your nipple before trailing it down your stomach. Both hands move to your hips as you guess that he’s now dropped to his knees. Your guess is proven correct the moment you feel his thin lips kiss your lower ones.

He grabs a thigh and rests it on his shoulder as you feel his thumb and index separate your folds. He slithers his tongue between your lips causing you to shudder. You bite your bottom lip to keep from calling out at the pleasure. “Mmm, Chanel,” he says between licks, “you always taste so divine.” He slips a finger inside you. “Ooh, look how wet you are, love.” His tongue is back on you now. You can hear the sound of his fingers working in and out of you. You’re nearly breaking the skin on your bottom lip from biting into it so hard. You want to scream his name so badly but you’re not sure what the next punishment will be. So you keep quiet and let your shivering body speak for you.

“Come for me, Chanel. Come for me.” His fingers and tongue are working at a furious pace. You have no choice but to obey.

“Aah,” you call out—taking special care not to say any swears or his name—as you come.

“Mmm, good girl. That’s the only one you’re allowed until I’m inside you, you understand.”

“Yes,” you pant out.

“Good. Now.” You hear more movement but he’s quickly near you again. You feel him wrap something around your thigh. There’s light clanging noise as well. A belt, you guess. But it’s not just a belt. He attaches something to it. Something cool and solid. It’s big enough to be held sturdy to your thigh as he rests the tip of it against your clit. _Oh, shit_ , you think as you realize what’s about to happen. “Remember: Don’t come.” You can almost hear the smugness in his voice as he turns the vibrator on.

Even on its lowest setting, the toy is so powerful that it can make you come in three minutes. And _that’s_ when you’re just working yourself up. There is no way you can hold out now that you’re fresh off an orgasm. _This man is setting me up to fail_ , you think. Sure enough, the constant pulsing on your tender clit quickly brings you to another orgasm. Over the faint humming of the toy you hear Tom give another hearty laugh. You’re sure another punishment isn’t far behind. You wonder what it is? Another spanking? Or maybe something worse. You fight against your binds as you come twice more.

By now you could give a shit about whatever punishment Tom can muster up. You’re loving the feeling of these multiple orgasms rippling through you. There’s a fourth one or is it fifth? You’re so engrossed in those never ending pulsating heats that you jump in surprise at the feeling of Tom’s hands on your hips. A hand moves across your stomach then reaches between your legs to finally turn off the toy. “What did I say, Chanel?” His voice is warm and low in your ear. You could come again just from that.

“D-don’t come,” you reply in shaky breaths. “But—”

“I don’t remember asking a second question. That’s _two_ punishments, love.” The knuckles of his hand graze the back of your ass as you hear him fumble with his belt and pants. You hear his clothes drop to the floor in a thud before he commands, “Spread your legs.” You try spread them as far as you can but he kicks your legs farther apart with his foot. He plants quick, wet pecks on the back of your shoulders before firmly grasping your hips. Before you know it, he’s pulling you back on his length.

He doesn’t take his time and you’re glad about it. If you wanted a slow, tender birthday fuck you would have never agreed to play his little game in the first place. You’re biting your lip again; this time you’re sure you broke skin because you can taste blood. You don’t care. Not one bit. Because Tom is pulling you back and forth on his cock so fast that you can barely register anything else. His hips are repeatedly hitting against your ass causing the slapping sound the action’s producing to echo off the walls. “Say my name!”

Oh thank god! Finally permission to speak! “Aah! Aah! Tom!”

He slaps you hard on the ass; the sting enhances the pleasure he’s giving you. “Say my name!”

“Fu….Tom! Tom!”

The sounds of your collective pants and groans soon add to the slapping sound filling the room. You’re sure you’re going to get complaints from your neighbor again. Normally you would care but right now? Right now you can focus on nothing but the feeling of Tom’s thick cock moving inside you. And about the way his nails are digging into the flesh of your hips. And about the feeling of his breath against the nape of your neck.

“You…You—aah! Shit, Chanel,” he mumbles as he continues to ram into you. “You’ll be a good girl from now on, yeah?”

You swallow hard giving much needed moisture to your dry throat. “N-no, no. No,” you confess. You have absolute zero plans of behaving if _this_ is your punishment. Bad girls do it well, indeed.

He chuckles at your reply. You suddenly feel his fingertips on your clit. Your body involuntarily tenses up. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you come.” He slows his rhythm down some as he presses slightly harder against your clit.

“Fuck!” You throw your head back and your body twitches as you come for the first time around his cock. You feel him stroke into you a few more times before his cock pulses and you feel him come inside you. He kisses your shoulder once more before pulling out of you. You feel some of the come drip down your inner thigh. He unknots the tie from around your eyes. You wince at the light hitting your eyes; you begin to blink the room back into focus. His large hands work on untying the ties around your wrists. The moment you’re free you fall back in exhaustion into his arms.

He carries you to the bed and lay you across the bottom. “Did you enjoy that,” he asks as he kisses the indents on the inside of your wrists.

“Yeah,” you say softly. You can feel sleep threatening to take you over.

“You tired, baby? I was going to run us a bath but if—”

“No, no. A bath would be nice.”

“Okay,” he says with an easy smile before pecking your forehead. “Don’t go to sleep before I return.”

“I won’t.”

A few minutes later Tom returns to find you curled into a ball, gently snoring. He smiles and shakes his head before pulling down a light blanket from the hall closet and covering your naked body. “Happy birthday, love,” he whispers as he kisses you on the cheek.


End file.
